


Polar Opposites and Extreme Odds

by TheRandomizedOne



Series: Grief & Glory [1]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Did I say lots of cursing?, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Fencing, Found Family, Gen, Happy Ending, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, Hybrids, It’s Tommy of course there’s cursing, Lots of Cursing, Magic, Medieval Medicine, Musketeers, Sword Fighting, Torture, Valkyrie - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-24 15:40:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30074481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRandomizedOne/pseuds/TheRandomizedOne
Summary: Tommy has lived his whole life in the countryside with his father Phil, a loyal Knight Commendatore. It’s repetitive and boring, and he wishes greatly to be able to go with his father and join the knights in training, but he quickly finds out that this isolation was for his own safety when he competes in an arena against his fathers wishes and is noticed by the King.Tubbo has always been content to live with his parents and his bees, never having to work very hard but still doing his best in school. However, his simple aristocratic life is upset by a loud boy with blonde hair, pure white wings, and a penchant for violence.
Relationships: Phil Watson & TommyInnit, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Series: Grief & Glory [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2212701
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	1. Dueling is difficult

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there fellow fencing enthusiasts, this is my first fic on Ao3 so I would appreciate any advice in the comments. I will try to put warnings in the notes when there is graphic violence (as shown in the warnings) but I am not perfect, so be careful. Also I will be updating tags as the story progresses in case I missed anything, so sorry ‘bout that.

Tommy took a quick lunge to Phil’s left side, hoping to catch him off guard as it was farther from his sword, but his unsteady footing from an unthought out attack was easily parried and a quick riposte almost sent his sword flying. He took a step back before moving forward and to the right for better aim but Phil backed him off with a jab at his chest and followed through with a remarkably fast remise that Tommy barely fended off. Phil left him no time for a counter attack and feinted in his peripheral before easily disarming him with a flick of his wrist.

Phil laughed humorously, picking up the fallen sword and handing it to his son. “You’ve gotten better, but your balance is still off. You forget to take the weight of your wings into account and end up leaning backwards as you move, I could probably knock you over with one finger if I really wanted to,” he smiled.

Tommy huffed and shot him a dirty look, “Yeah, well maybe if you gave me a real sword instead of this shitty one I could actually hit you,” it was true, the blunt iron sabre could hardly draw blood, though it did leave many bruises behind on the battlefield.

Phil shook his head, sheathing his own weapon (A rapier, silver and gilded with a swept hilt.) and walking towards the gate of the training grounds. “Maybe once you’re older, but for now I don’t want you hurting anyone,” he paused, looking over his shoulder at Tommy massaging his wrists. “Or getting hurt, for that matter,” he said quietly, so that Tommy barely heard him. 

“You said that when I was 12! I’m turning 16 next month, and then I’ll be able to apply for apprenticeship, and become a knight, and I can’t do that without a proper sword!” Tommy exclaimed angrily. He’d always wanted to be like his father, and it upset him to always be told to wait. He’d waited four years, he had, he was ready, and his father seemingly refused to acknowledge that.

Phil calmly unlatched the gate as if he had not just been called out by his only son, and it frustrated Tommy even more to be ignored than to be talked down to, but clearly he could do nothing about it. Instead he yelled a simple ‘Fuck you!’ and strode to catch up with his father, ruffling his wings angrily. 

Tommy tossed his training sword in the general direction of where the weapons were kept and followed his father out of the grounds, latching the door behind him. They walked in silence, but it was more a comfortable resting silence than a tense one. The walk back to their cabin was short, as the training grounds were really just a little clearing that had been made in the place they usually chop wood. 

The area Tommy lived in was small and secluded, but close enough that one could walk to town in about fifteen minutes and the main city an half an hour away on horseback. It was a nice area, not too many people but close enough that you weren’t cut off from the rest of the world completely. Though, to Tommy it often felt like he was.

You see Tommy didn’t have any friends, unless you counted Techno and Wilbur, but they were adults and a decade older than him. And Phil never let him go into town unless he had a cape or a coat on which got very hot during the summer and made his feathers go all wonky and uncomfortable. So he only ever got to see other people on special days like festivals or when Phil needed something and was too busy to go get it himself. 

Tommy was basically isolated, and Phil refused to give him a full explanation, saying that he could find plenty of things to do where they lived and had no need to go out into the crowds. 

The only real upside to living this far out was the space to fly, no houses and buildings meant an endless sky to swoop and glide in. Tommy once flew all the way above the tree tops and tried to land on one, but ended up with a broken wing and a (Quite literally,) one month grounding. 

“Go do a little bit of cleaning up now Tommy, Wilbur will be swinging by for a report and I don’t want his first impression to be messy tables and dirty laundry,” Phil gestured towards the the messy living room and clicked his tongue. “Don’t worry, I’ll clean the laundry, I just want it all in one basket,” he finished, eyebrow raised at Tommy’s face of distress.

Tommy nodded and got to work, grabbing any dirty towels and stuffing them in a basket, then picking up a broom to get at the mud and dust that always gathered after a few days of harsh training. As a kid he used to pretend the broom was a sword and swoosh it around when he though Phil wasn’t looking, shouting about how one day he would beat his dad in a fight and there was nothing he could do about it. Phil always just nodded along encouragingly as he fumbled with the piece of wood.

His reverie was interrupted by a knock on the door and his father hurrying to finish pouring the tea Tommy didn’t notice he had been making and shouting for whoever was knocking to come in. 

Wilbur entered the room with a couple papers in his hand and a bright smile. “Hello there old man, how’s it going?” He jested, slightly bending his head to walk through the door that was originally built for Phil’s height. 

“I’m alright mate, quite well rested if I’m being honest, Tommy would you fetch me a spoon?” Phil responded, flashing him a quick smile as Wil sat down on the well worn couch and placed the papers he was holding down on the table.

Tommy leaned the broom he was clutching against a wall and grabbed a spoon out of the silverware drawer to hand it to the older man. He then made his way back to the corner he had been sweeping hoping that if he stayed out of the way and pretended to be focused on his work they wouldn’t tell him to leave like they usually did during reports.

Wilbur was not a general or colonel of any sort, he was an artillery officer and a gunsmith, but he was very influential and one of the few friends of Phil who knew where his personal cabin was, so he was often sent out to report of anything important during Phil’s absences, normally lasting a week or so. 

“Anything worrisome?” Phil questioned, stirring two spoonfuls of sugar into Wilbur’s cup the way he liked it. 

“One of your trainees broke his arm and needs your signature for pay during time off, and there’s a competition going on in the capital that wants your presence as referee,” Wilbur informed him, leaning back into the couch and stretching his arms.

Phil frowned as walked over and placed the cup of tea in front of the other man, “Oh, well I’m sorry for the poor guy, what happened?”

“Got bashed into a fence while he was training, think he got a concussion from it too. He’ll be alright though, the doctors said it was just a fracture or something,” Wilbur answered. 

Phil nodded from where he sat across from him, “I’ll be able to make it to the competition, though I won’t stay for long after, and I’ll have to send Tommy to get some new reigns from town for the ride. They’re quite worn but I haven’t bothered to buy new ones because I haven’t had any need to ride for a while, and I’m afraid they might just snap,” Phil told him.

“That’s alright, they just want an appearance for the excitement, and having an experienced swordsman as a referee is just a plus,” Wilbur smirked, “Plus, your fans are dying for a sight of the great Philza Actos, Royal Knight Commendator,” he jabbed, leaning forward slightly.

Phil chuckled, “And I’ll give them just that. Tommy, I know you’ve been listen from over there, there’s a bag of change in my cape hanging by the door, take it and head out to town,” he directed knowingly, turning to give him ‘The look’. “And the cape, too.”

Tommy nodded enthusiastically, excited on not only being let off for listening in, but also for the chance to get out of the house after ages of Phil being home, (In reality It’s only been three days, but it sure felt like ages.) for he was absolutely starved of social interaction.

He grabbed the cape and slipped it over his shoulders, deftly tying the string that kept it in place and checking his pockets for the money Phil said was there before skipping out the doorway and slamming the door behind him. 

Today was turning out to be a good day.


	2. A sword fit for a Knight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy finds more than what he was looking for after getting lost in the small town near his cabin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beware, in depth descriptions of cool ass weapons

Tommy refused to admit he was lost. Sure, he may not know exactly where he was going, or where the path out of town was, but he was not lost.

Surveying his surroundings, he could see a bakery to the left of him with a few people going in an out, and a near empty smithy to his right inhabited by an ash covered man striking hard on a piece of metal he believed to be the start of a horseshoe.

Not really wanting to talk to anyone but still wanting a place to sit down for a while, Tommy headed over to the smithy and watched the man work while he backtracked his steps internally.

“What’re you doing over here by yourelf kid?” The blacksmith asked, pausing from his work to look up at him.

“I was buying reigns for my father,” Tommy did his best to be polite, “And I just wanted to sit down for a while before heading back,” Technically not a lie.

“Well I don’t know why you’re taking a break on the south side of town then, aren’t most homes out towards the north side?” The blacksmith questioned him, dipping the horseshoe in water to cool it.

Okay, so he has somehow made his way to the opposite side of town, he does not know how he managed that but at least he knows which way to go now.

“I, uh, wanted to look around,” He lied awkwardly, fiddling with the clasp of his cape.

“Alright,” The blacksmith responded gruffly. Tommy just nodded. There was a pause while tue man tossed the horseshoe into a bucket he presumed held more horseshoes.

“Are you a friend of Philza or something?” The blacksmith asked, “That’s his insignia, the Black Hawk-Eagle,” The blacksmith clarified, pointing to the clasp.

The clasp was a gold carving of an eagle in mid flight, the eagle that Phil shares his wings with.

“Oh, I’m his apprentice,” Tommy said excitedly. “I’m training with him so I can be a knight too,” He rattled on through a smile.

The blacksmith snorted, “An apprentice without a sword?” He questioned, gesturing towards his clearly empty belt.

Tommy’s face flushed. “I mean, pretty much, yeah,” He answered.

The blacksmith chuckled. “Well, if that’s a case, then I have something you might be interested in, if you have the money, that is,” The man said.

“Do tell,” Tommy responded, trying to sound confident.

The blacksmith motioned for Tommy to follow him inside his shop, leading him behind the counter and pulling a sword out. The sheath was quite simple, a nice velvety looking black lined with metal. But then, he pulled the sword out. 

It wasn’t flashy, but it still had stunningly beautiful craftsmanship. A fashionable hilt with the grip simple as to be comfortably held and an engraved silver guard and pommel for a bit of a show. The blade was high quality steel that absolutely shined with the need to wreak havoc upon it’s foes. This was a sword for a knight, and oh god Tommy wanted it.

“Some mercenary commissioned this and said he’d pay a full 20 gold pieces,” The man whistled longingly, “But he refused to pay the price and tried to threaten me with my own weapon. Didn’t really have anyone else to sell it to ‘cause most of the town folks are farm people or traders, and it’s more use than flair, so I didn’t want it rusting away as some rich mans accessory,” The blacksmith explained. 

The sword was exactly what Tommy had always yearned for, but, “Sir, there’s no way I can scrounge up twenty gold pieces, I’m sorry,” Tommy said dejectedly.

The man shook his head and chucked lightheartedly, “Like I said, I can’t find any customers for it, so the price has gone down, ten silvers and she’s yours. Besides, any friend of Philza’s is a friend of mine,” He said.

Tommy shot up straight, taking his bag and sorting out ten silver pieces to give to the man, “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this, I can’t believe it, thank you, what’s your name, sir?” Tommy asked excitedly, handing him the money.

“Skeppy, and yours?” The blacksmith responded, resheathing and giving the rapier to the excited young man who then attached it to his belt.

“Tommy, thank you again, I should probably head home now, goodbye!” Tommy said, waving and thinking of how he would hide this from his dad whenever he got back. 

“Bye, kid,” Skeppy responded, waving back at him. 

“Why did you do that?” Halo asked from behind him. “That sword was definitely worth a lot more, and you and Philza aren’t even that close,” He said.

“Honestly?” Skeppy answered. “I don’t really know.”

Silence fell over the shop.

“I’ll go get the seeing ball, your premonitions are always strange,” Halo sighed, walking towards the back of the shop.

Skeppy laughed, “But you love when it happens,” He told his friend as he followed him back.

“Yeah, I wonder what story is being told this time,” Halo said excitedly, grabbing the crystal ball off the shelf.

“We’re about to find out,” Skeppy answered him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, new characters pog. Honestly was going to make the blacksmith an OC, but decided to drop in some Skeppy halfway through because we vibe with that. Also, MAGIC!

**Author's Note:**

> Not much in the first chapter, just a set up for the storyline, but there is some important information hidden between the lines, so read carefully (:


End file.
